


Oil, Water, and Flour

by AlannasTara



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:39:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannasTara/pseuds/AlannasTara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She pushed open the door to the pantry and stood incredulously in the doorway, mouth agape. There was flour everywhere, dusting all of the shelves, and puddles of oil here and there, surrounded by canned goods scattered around the floor, all caked in a doughy mess." Set in Alexandria. Season 5b. Carol x Spencer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wndrw8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wndrw8/gifts).



> Dedicated to the fabulous wndrw8, who asked for a Carol x Spencer fic. Hope you enjoy! <333

* * *

He made his way down the street, the dust blowing across his path, stinging and blurring his vision, making him wish he had tears to cry, if only to allow the liquid to soothe his tired and aching eyes. One day they had been whole, the next he was missing half of his family.

He wanted to talk to someone, but his mother wasn't an option. Her grief had turned her to steel, hardened her. She had no emotional reserves with which to offer him up solace or comfort. He had gone to the priest but that was a dead end. That guy had his own demons and seemed a few pages short of a full hymnal. Thus he found himself wandering down main street, clutching the strap of a rifle to his back, a rifle that had belonged to Aiden. The unfamiliar weight even more of a reminder that he was gone.

Aiden, who had shared a bunk bed with him growing up, taught him how to catch frogs and climb trees. His brother, who rode bikes with him, camped out in the backyard with him in the summertime, and punched the kid down the street who called him a 'pussy' for not wanting to break into the school gym and steal the championship trophy as a prank during senior week. His brother, who had ignored the panicking masses to pick him up from his frat house when the plague hit, armed with only a baseball bat and a hockey stick. The man who had stood alongside him building the walls that now protected their home from the dead. He was gone.

His feet carried him along until he found himself standing at the door of the chapel. He didn't know why he was there, couldn't have explained what he was looking for or what he expected to find. He was just there, feeling something pull him to this building, and he hoped one day something would make sense to him again.

That's when he heard her.

He glanced up and saw the woman sitting off to the side, the sunlight streaming in through the window, illuminating her creamy skin and making her hair shine like a halo. She was an angel: stately, serene, an air of composure about her that made him feel instantly at ease, yet stood in contrast to the near-silent tears streaming down her face.

She was an enigma, a contradiction, and she was beautiful. The air surrounding her drew him in and he couldn't help himself as he moved closer, dragging his foot a touch, just enough to make some noise and alert her to his presence.

She turned and her eyes poured over him, studying him, looking for all the world like she could see right through him, to his very core, every part of him flayed open for her to study...to learn. She swiped the tears from her face and managed a watery smile, though it didn't reach her eyes, eyes that were the color of the sky on a cloudless day.

"Mind if I sit?" Spencer gestured to the seat next to Carol. She nodded and waved him on, motioning him to sit next to her.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, their breathing breaking through the stillness of the air, the only sound that could be heard, save for the creaking of the wooden pew when either one of them shifted in their seat.

"You get used it it." Her quiet voice whispered across the short distance between them.

He studied her, noted the wrinkle of her brow, the dried, tear-stained streaks down her cheeks, and he knew, he could tell, she had lost just as much as he had.

"A friend once told me, 'the pain never goes away, you just make room for it,'" she rose to leave him then, placing her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently to show her condolence for his losses.

He covered her hand with his own, holding her there for just a moment longer, letting the heat of her skin and the warmth of her kindness battle the chill he felt inside.

She began to walk away and he stopped her again, turning to look directly at her.

"Wait! Do you want to go for a walk later? I'd like to talk to you some more, if that's alright with you?"

A mixture of suspicion and indecision played over her face for a moment, her eyes narrowing, but then relaxing as she nodded, "I think I'd like that."

"Where can I find you?"

"I'll either be in the storeroom or the pantry. After dinner?"

"After dinner," Spencer nodded earnestly and watched as she walked out of the chapel, head held high, confidence in her stride. She was quite a woman.

* * *

Carol stood in front of the shelves, looking but not really seeing, her mind a few hundred miles away, thinking back to those they had lost along the way. She didn't realize her hands were gripping the bag so tightly until she felt the pop and a cloud of flour plumed in front of her face.

Coughing, she waved her hand trying to clear the air.

" _Dammit!"_ The flour was all over the floor, covering her pants and shoes as well.

"Hello? Carol?" Spencer followed the noise she was making down the hall and back into the storeroom, stopping abruptly at the picture in front of him.

She could see the grin he was desperately trying to hide behind his hand, and she could just imagine what she looked like. The ridiculousness of the situation had her cracking a smile herself and then outright laughing, the somber mood lifting and clearing from the air right along with the flour.

"I was, uhh, going to see if you needed help with...anything," Spencer choked out in in his attempt to appear serious, gesturing to the shelves behind her. "I'm pretty good with my hands."

"You know your way around a kitchen?" Carol questioned him, surprised by how comfortable it was to be in his presence, how light she felt.

"Please. I make a _mean_ lasagna," Spencer grinned at her and she gasped quietly to herself, his smile doing all kinds of fluttery things to her insides. Things that were so foreign to her; she hadn't felt them in ages.

"Is that so," Carol teased in return. "You should taste my cookies, then."

He moved in closer, reaching out a hand to dust some of the flour from her nose, brushing his thumb across her cheek, and in a low voice replied, "Believe me, I'm trying."

Her breath caught in her throat at his bold innuendo, and her heart skipped a beat as she met his eyes, reveling in the lust and admiration she saw gazing back at her. Her entire body leaned in, without her conscious thought, almost like a magnet, drawing her to him.

His hand slipped from her cheek to the back of her head, his strong, lean fingers winding their way through the shimmery wisps of her hair, cupping her, pulling her gently to him. He bent his lips to hers as she tilted her head to meet him halfway. His lips were soft and tender, and he kissed her like that was all he planned to do for the rest of forever. His tongue swept out to lick at her lips, seeking entrance, and she gave in willingly, opening to him as he mapped her mouth with his, lazily exploring her.

She felt a heat and warmth coil up in her and explode, as if there was a flame inside of her and someone had just poured gasoline on it. No longer content to be passive, she turned the tables on him, and became the aggressor, unleashing that which had been bottled up and tamped down in her all of her life spent married to Ed.

Her hands grasped at his shoulders, pulling him closer and winding her arms around him. She tilted her head more, achieving a deeper angle from which to ravage his mouth, as she pressed the length of her body against his. He was all hard planes, rigid lines, and thick muscle and she melted against him, her sweet, soft curves enveloping him, molding herself around him.

His large hands gripped her waist, surprisingly gentle in their strength, and hoisted her up against his chest. She automatically brought her legs to wrap around his waist, as if by rote, as if it was a completely normal, everyday occurrence for her to have her legs wrapped around a man.

He shuffled forwards, tracking the flour across the floor as he moved them towards the shelves, lips never leaving hers, holding onto her with one arm as he used his other hand to feel blindly around, searching for a flat surface. He knocked a few canned goods off the shelf and they clattered to the floor with a bang, before rolling away.

Carol felt her bottom hit the waist high deep freezer and she released Spencer's neck to scoot herself back on the lid, her hands seeking purchase on the smooth, cool, metal surface, while her lips tried to keep in contact with his skin, kissing wherever she could touch. She released her legs from around his waist and her foot kicked something off the counter next to her, though she couldn't be bothered to see what it was, and she heard it hit the floor with a dull thunk.

Spencer stepped in closer, hands gripping her ass and scooting her to the edge of her perch so he could slip his hands underneath the back of her blouse, gliding them over her skin, seeking out every inch of her that he could touch. He lowered his lips to her neck, kissing his way across her collarbone, tongue dipping in and tasting the saltiness of her skin. Carol leaned her head back, exposing more of her throat to his caresses, while her hands tangled in his hair and her fingertips grazed his scalp.

He trailed his way further down her chest, alternating soft kisses and light nips against the delicate skin of the swell of her breasts. His hands left her back to make quick work of the buttons on her shirt, sliding it off her shoulders and down her arms where it then fluttered to the floor. Carol reached down and pulled her cami over her head, looking into Spencer's eyes as she bared herself to him, unashamed of who she was and the woman she had become.

His eyes darkened, his breath quickened, and his hands gripped her thighs tightly as he tried to gain control over his desires.

"Don't," she whispered huskily, hand cupping his cheek and nudging his face up to meet her eyes. "Don't hold back. I won't break. I've come through the fire and I'm stronger for it. I can take it."

His control snapped and he took her mouth with his, devouring her, tasting her, feasting on her flesh. Her moans got louder and her skin flushed with the heat of arousal, the heights of which she had never reached before. She pulled away from him long enough to yank his shirt over his head before crashing back into him, feeling his hot, sweaty skin beneath her own, burning her, branding her. She was sure she was going to come apart before they ever made it to the main event, and then his tongue was on her nipple, flicking and circling before closing his mouth around the hardened nub and suckling for all he was worth.

" _Shit!"_ Carol gasped, unable to control what poured from her mouth.

His hand kneaded the flesh of her other breast, rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb, dancing in the sweet spot between pleasure and pain, as shocks of electricity jolted her core.

All Carol could think, when she could manage a coherent thought, was how he was _really, really_ good with his hands.

Spencer switched his mouth to the other breast, lavishing the same attention on it, and Carol couldn't help but roll her hips, her body seeking fulfillment. The need between her legs was so sharp, so intense, that she shuddered with want, her fingernails piercing his shoulders, drawing little crimson pinpricks to the surface, and pulling a growl from deep within his chest.

He shifted to move his free hand to her pants, somehow managing to unfasten them with one hand, a feat she'd have been impressed with if she wasn't so caught up in a haze of want and desire, her senses warring between giving and receiving pleasure. And then his finger was dipping inside her and she lost whatever hold on reality that she'd managed to retain, as his raspy whispers of how much she felt like heaven, flooded her ears.

Feeling him stroke her from the inside out, slipping and sliding from her entrance up through her folds, softly brushing her clit, teasing and taunting her in the sweetest torture ever, she keened in his ear, begging without words for him to finish her.

He would not be hurried and took his sweet time, just as he had when he first kissed her, mapping and exploring her body with his fingers in the most intimate of ways. At least that's what she'd thought, until he'd removed the rest of her clothing and knelt between her legs, burying his face in her core, replacing his finger with his tongue, learning her in an entirely different way.

She felt her entire body tensing and tightening, every sense and every muscle focusing down to the spot where he was worshiping her in the most decadent of ways. She looked down her body, past her flushed skin, past the beads of sweat trickling down her abdomen, and her feet resting on his broad shoulders, toes curling into his skin. Her eyes clashed with his as he looked up her body and watched with awe as she convulsed and shuddered, and came apart in his mouth. He continued to stroke her and lap at her entrance, drawing out her climax as long as he could.

She was reclined bonelessly upon the freezer as he rose to his feet, and he gathered her up against him as she struggled to catch her breath.

He waited patiently for her, covering her neck with soft little kisses, and rubbing his hands over her back and down her hips as she recovered.

She turned to say something to him and met his lips instead. Smelling herself on his stubble and tasting herself in his mouth, the kiss ignited her blood all over again and this time she gave in to the pull she felt inside of her, reaching her hands down to his jeans and unsnapping them quickly.

Before he could respond she had her hand on his dick, marveling at the size and feel of him, the strength and power she felt flowing from him and into her. She took her time stroking him, getting to know him inch by inch, building the fever higher between them.

His cock was smooth and rigid in her hand, and jerked beneath her touch, but Spencer had mastered a level of control over his body that went beyond his years and experience, and he willed himself not to lose it.

Her feet went to his waist, slipped beneath his waistband, and using her toes she began pushing and shoving his pants down his hips, so she didn't have to steal her hand away from her ministrations. Her lips covered his, sealing his rapturous moans of pleasure with her mouth, working him ever closer to her entrance before remembering something, and pausing.

"Do you have a condom?"

It took a second for the haze to clear, but then he was digging in his jeans for his wallet and pulled out the little foil-wrapped square.

"I guess some things never change," Carol chuckled as he opened it and rolled it on.

He lifted one foot to step out of his jeans, and then he was falling backward, as if his feet had simply gone out from under him. With her body still wrapped around his, she tumbled down on top of him, both of them landing in a heap of clothing and a slippery liquid that covered the floor.

She looked down beneath her in concern, trying to make sure he wasn't hurt, but instead of grimacing in pain, his eyes were sparkling and he couldn't hold back his laughter at their predicament. His joy was infectious, and she found herself giggling along with him.

"What did we-," Carol started to ask but was cut off by the feel of him still hard beneath her, prodding her with his need.

"I think it's oil," Spencer grunted as she brushed against him, working to a sitting position and straddling him.

She poised herself over him, pausing to ensure he was looking at her, before lowering herself over him, gazing into his eyes as she took him inside her, gripping him and surrounding him in her wet heat.

His fullness and heaviness inside her, stretching her, throbbing within her, gave her pause and she allowed them both to adjust to the sensations rippling through them before she began to move. She rocked her hips in a tortuously slow rhythm, smirking when he grasped her hips and tried to speed her up. She stopped moving completely and bent down, roughly whispering one word into his ear.

"Payback…," she murmured as she clenched her inner walls, squeezing him from within, loving the strangled noises wrenching from his throat as he bucked beneath her.

She started riding him again, bracing her hands on his chest, holding him down as she ground into him, gradually picking up speed as his dick massaged her inner walls, rubbing all the right spots, building her up. Her arousal climbed higher and higher, and she couldn't help herself as she raked her nails down his chest, leaning back and moaning as she worked his cock in completely different angle, sinking deeper still.

She clasped his hand and pulled it from her hip moving it to her clit, showing him how she wanted him to touch her. He was a fast learner. Between his dick and his thumb, she was close once more, and felt her walls start to quiver and flutter around him. Her eyes closed and she fell over the cliff, the air exploding around her, leaving her feeling weightless, floating, twirling like a leaf in the autumn breeze. She collapsed against his chest and he thrust up into her, seeking his own release. His movements set off another orgasm, catching her unaware, and she cried out this time, unaware that she was saying anything, much less whimpering his name.

The sound of his name spilling forth from her mouth was all it took and he came, jerking underneath her, groaning through his release, her own name dripping reverently off his lips, like a benediction.

They rested right there in the floor, his hands softly stroking her back, both of them settling back to earth, gradually letting reality seep into their consciousness.

"I think we made a mess," Carol sighed quietly, although she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for doing it.

"I think we did. Our clothes, too." Spencer reached out with one hand to lift up her blouse, caked with flour and oil.

"Oh, noooooo," she groaned. "That's never gonna come out."

"I guess that means you better get it home and rinse it…," Spencer propped himself up on his elbows, kissing the crown of her head.

"Yeah, probably," Carol agreed, but then a thought struck her and she continued, "although your clothes are stained, too. If you brought them over I could clean them as well?"

"Oh, yeah?" he looked down at her, raising an eyebrow, curious if she meant what he thought she meant.

"Well it's only practical," she shrugged, " and you could shower while you wait, wash the oil off?"

"Hmmm, sounds tempting…," Spencer pretended to mull it over. "I have one condition," he said, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he lowered his voice and nipped at her ear. "You shower with me."

* * *

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, splashing the sky in muted blues, purples, and pinks as it rose. Olivia sighed and breathed in deep, the fresh air and smell of the pine trees a crisp wake-up call, as she trudged to the storeroom to gather supplies to take to the cafeteria for the morning meal.

She opened the door and was greeted with dusty, white, and smudged footprints trailing across the floor.

"Hello? Anyone here?" She called out, walking towards the back of the building. "Hello?"

She pushed open the door to the pantry and stood incredulously in the doorway, mouth agape. There was flour everywhere, dusting all of the shelves, and puddles of oil here and there, surrounded by canned goods scattered around the floor, all caked in a doughy mess.

"What the hell-," She tiptoed her way back to the deep freezer, lid just slightly ajar. She lifted it and sure enough, more chocolate was missing. "I'm going to have to get a lock on this thing," she muttered to herself as she went in search of cleaning supplies, shaking her head at the mess.

She came to a stop as she looked down at the floor. Surely not. It couldn't be. They were mature human beings for cripes' sake…

There was _not_ an adult sized flour angel imprinted at her feet. It was only her imagination.

If she said it enough, maybe she'd believe it.


	2. Chaos Follows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Contains some explicit, mature, intense sexual situations. Reader discretion advised.

They snuck up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible so they didn’t disturb anyone else in the house, and slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them, heedless of the doughy footprints that trailed them on the hardwood floors through the house. Carol grabbed a few towels from the linen closet and tossed them on the the towel rack next to the tub before leaning in to turn on the shower. While she was bent over the tub, testing the temperature of the water gushing from the faucet, Spencer moved in behind her, his large hands gently gripping her hips, guiding her body up against his and nuzzling his mouth to her ear, kissing and nibbling against the delicate skin beneath her earlobe. 

 

“Mmmmm,” Carol moaned as goosebumps broke out along her skin and chills ran down her spine, licks of heat, desire, and lust racing through her veins. “That feels so good. Don’t stop,” she implored.  

 

He continued trailing down her neck with his lips, tasting the saltiness of her skin. “You taste like a bakery,” he murmured against her flesh, and she laughed a full, throaty laugh before she could catch herself. 

 

The sound was so strange and foreign to her. Laughter was a rarity, even rarer than having anything funny enough at which to laugh, but she enjoyed the feeling it gave her. She felt  happy , like the sun was rising inside, casting light into every corner and bringing her to life. It was so alien, this person she was when she was with Spencer. Carefree and weightless. 

 

His hands slipped from her waist to the skin beneath her shirt, caressing her as he lifted the top and brought it over head, tossing it on the ground. She turned in his arms and met his lips with her own, the taste of flour and oil on his tongue mingling with his own flavor, spicy and minty all at once. Her hands went to work on his pants, pushing them down as he toed his shoes off and whipped his shirt from his body. When he was naked she removed her own pants and stepped over the side of the tub, the steam behind the curtain rising to meet her face, stealing her breath as the spray of water beat down upon her. She felt him brush against her back as he joined her and he wrapped his arms around hers, linking their fingers against her stomach. 

 

The hot water mixed with the oil and sweat coating their bodies, slicked them together as it trailed down into the bottom of the shower, making the act of washing more dangerous than they realized. As Carol reached to grab the body wash and washcloth, her feet slipped beneath her throwing her weight back into Spencer. He clutched her tightly to the front of him, trying to steady her, but the force of movement caused him to teeter as well, both of them ending in a pile of limbs on the bottom of the tub, accidentally bringing down the shower curtain as well. 

 

Spencer groaned, trying to straighten up a bit, and checked to make sure Carol wasn’t hurt.

 

“Are you hurt?” 

 

She answered with a snort, then a chuckle, then full on giggling as she leaned back on his chest, the bottle of soap laying at her feet. Her body was shaking from laughter, the hilarity of the situation absolutely surreal. 

 

“You just keep sweeping me off my feet,” Spencer joked, and Carol cracked up even more. 

 

Spencer wrapped his arms around her waist and widened his legs so Carol was sitting between them, his long limbs bracing the sides of the tub, enveloping her in his body. Her laughter trailed off and she settled against him, laying her head on his shoulder. He was warm and inviting and she felt safe in his arms. It was a feeling she was not at all accustomed to because in this life, you were never safe.  

 

They rested there for a minute, neither one inclined to move, even as the shower rained down over their bodies, water misting on their faces and falling in streams and rivulets around them.  

 

“You know, maybe we should just wash while we’re down here. It’s probably less painful,” Carol suggested once she’d calmed down.

 

“You’re probably right,” Spencer murmured as he kissed down the side her neck. “Hand me the soap and I’ll get your back for you.”

 

Carol leaned forward, snatching the bottle up and handed it behind her to Spencer, along with the washcloth. She turned the shower off and adjusted the faucet so the water filled the tub, while he poured some of the liquid on the cloth and lathered it up in his hands, placing it gently on her back, and smoothing it along her skin. Carol drew her knees up, clasping her hands around them, and rested her head against them, stretching her torso as she did so. 

 

“Ohhhhhh,” she moaned as his hands worked her sore muscles, kneading her flesh as he rubbed the soapy rag against the small of her back. “That feels so good.”

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Mmm-hmmm," she answered, eyes closed, soaking in every sensation, relaxing her body more with each worshipful pass of his hands along her spine. He moved his hands up and outwards, letting the washcloth fall into the water forgotten as his fingers continued massaging along her ribs. Eventually he reached her shoulders, taking his time as he rubbed his thumbs in gentle circles along the tendons, the slow repetitive movements lulling Carol until she was almost asleep. 

 

He worked his way up into the back of her neck, chuckling quietly at the unholy noises she made, sinful groans escaping at the decadent pleasure she felt when he ran his fingers through her hair, scraping against her scalp. 

 

"You keep that up and I'm never letting you leave here." Carol sighed, her body thoroughly relaxed. 

 

"As long as I'm trapped with you, I think I'm okay with that," he pulled her to him and nibbled along her earlobe, licking the shell of her ear. Her body shivered and goosebumps broke out along her skin. "You cold?"

 

"Ahhh, no, more like the opposite." She tilted her head to the side, exposing more of her neck. 

 

He lifted his leg and turned the faucet off with his foot, then adjusted his legs so that she was sitting on his lap, her knees straddling his thighs. 

 

"You're right," he whispered in her ear as he trailed his fingers down her abdomen and hip, and along her thigh before he brought them up through her heat, grazing her clit and then resting his hand on the soft expanse of skin right above her curls. 

 

He brought his other hand around to her breast and cupped it in his hand, while bringing his finger and thumb together and teasing her peaked nipple, rolling it and tugging softly on it. Her hips squirmed against him as she embraced the heat spiraling through her body, and she craved even more. 

 

While maintaining his hold on her breast, he slid his other hand back down to her slit, searching out the swollen nub and circling it with his middle finger. He was playing her like an instrument, and each noise, each moan, each whimper that escaped her lips was the sweetest symphony to his ears. 

 

He switched hands, giving attention to the other breast, and latched his mouth onto the skin just below and behind her ear. The thin layer of skin was fine and delicate, and fraught with nerve endings that exploded like bursts of electricity in her veins when he kissed and nipped at it. He teased her along slowly, dragging out the pleasure, creating an intense, slow build-up inside of her. 

 

Her hips continued to grind against him and he knew that she could feel the effect she had on him. She leaned forward, pulling herself slightly away from him and braced her hands on his thighs while lifting her hips backwards and brushing against his hard length. 

 

“Now,” she ground the word out, her voice harsh and thick with desire and her throat hoarse from the steam in the bathroom. 

 

“What about--”

 

“Now!” She interrupted him, “Pull out or whatever, tell me and I’ll move, just…,” she trailed off when he gripped himself in hand and guided his dick to her entrance. He groaned loudly as he buried himself in her, the sensation so different without a condom. The feel of her heat, the wetness, and silkiness of her walls massaging him, skin to skin, had him panting for breath and steeling every bit of his self-control to keep from coming just yet. Carol sat up a little straighter and started to rock, but he gripped her hips tightly, holding her still.

 

“Hang on...just a sec…,” Spencer bit out, breathing deeply. 

 

When he felt more in control, he shifted her, signaling it was okay for her to go and she moved her pelvis against him, pushing back and moving forward again. While she grinded on him, he moved his hands over her soft, slick skin, wanting to feel every inch of her. He slid his hands up her back and down her arms, before gliding back up her arms to her shoulders. He shifted his hands to her ribs and around to her breasts, holding her against him as she rotated her hips. 

 

The splashes of water hitting the floor and the shower curtain were the only sounds to be heard, interrupted only by occasional moans or cries from the couple, and the slapping noise of wet flesh hitting flesh. Little waves broke against the walls of the tub as their bodies met again and again. 

 

Spencer drew his hands from Carol's breasts to her back and drifted down to the top of her ass. He loved her back. It was lean, muscular in a graceful way, sleek, delicate, and yet strong. Both physically and metaphorically. He knew she carried a heavy weight on her shoulders and he was glad that they could be together like this and take their minds off of everything outside the walls of the house. 

 

Carol reached one hand back and clasped his own, pushing it further down her ass cheek. He gripped her bottom, kneading the flesh and she cried out in pleasure, her inner walls reflexively clenching around his dick. 

 

"Yes, yes...yes," she panted out, her voice so low and breathy he almost couldn't hear her. 

 

He continued to squeeze and massage her ass as she moved up and down on his cock, his fingers sliding closer and closer to the point where their bodies met. Carol was getting more forceful in her movements pushing further back into his hands and his hand slipped down to the space right behind her slit. She keened as his fingers brushed over the small, puckered area and voiced a particularly emphatic "Yes." 

 

His cock stiffened at her reaction. She tightened even more around him at the same time as she tilted her hips, pushing back, and cried out his name.  Fuck!  She was almost too much for him. 

 

He massaged his thumb over the small ring of flesh, the soap and water mixing with oil, and her own fluids providing more than enough lubrication for him to press his digit  against her, just barely slipping past the resistance. 

 

Her hips stuttered and she gripped one of his thighs in her hand, her nails scoring his flesh as she started shuddering, overwhelmed by the sensation, the heaviness of him inside of her, filling her to completion, wrapping around her inside and out. He knew her body, knew every inch of her, places and pieces of her that no one had ever known. 

 

The grip she had on his dick intensified as she came, her walls squeezing him over and over, as she experienced the hardest and longest climax not gifted to her from a vibrator.

 

" Shit,"  Spencer hissed as he jerked his cock from inside her just before he came. The sticky mess was all over his lap as he tried to hold her off of him.

 

Carol just spilled forward, her body wrecked.  Boneless and sated, she couldn't move a muscle if she'd tried. She rested against his legs, her thighs spread in what she was sure was lewd position, but she didn't give a damn at the moment. Both of them were trying to regain their breath and their strength, enough to at least make it to a bed and out of the bathroom. 

 

"Did we..," Spencer huffed, "...get clean enough?" 

 

Carol laughed then, her mind still blown, and unable to process what was going on exactly. 

 

"Let's just rinse off and go to bed. I could sleep for a week." 

 

"I'm so on board with that plan." 

 

The two finally managed to get to their feet, limbs aching and cramping as they tried to stretch out the kinks.

 

"I may need another massage after this," Carol hinted, "not that I'm complaining at all." 

 

She turned the shower back on, each only standing under the spray long enough to rid themselves of the evidence of sex, not wanting to get more water all over the floor with the shower curtain down. 

 

Spencer was the first to step out, around the edge of the curtain, so he could grab their towels. He handed Carol's towel to her and hurriedly dried as much of the water off his body as he could. Carol ran her towel over her hair, quickly wringing it dry of water, then over her legs before wrapping it around her body, tucking the end under her arms. His was wrapped snugly around his waist, just a bit too small for his hips. He had to grip both ends in one hand to keep from flashing his dick everywhere. 

 

Carol's mouth ran a little dry, seeing him there like that, but the aching sensation between her legs told her she'd been adventurous enough for one day. 

 

She looked around the bathroom in dismay at the mess, and then sighed. 

 

"I'll come back and clean this up once I get clothes on."

 

Spencer opened the door, placing one hand on the small of Carol's back to steady her as she tried to walk out. 

 

"I'm going to be cleaning dough out of places for weeks," he quipped as they stepped out, and Carol laughed again, her face flushed and bright, eyes shining as she looked up at him. 

 

"It was worth it."

 

He came to a stop just outside the door and she ran into him, looking up to see Daryl standing right across from them in the hallway. 

 

His face was flushed and he avoided her gaze, eyes narrowing and turning even more red as he took in the condition of the bathroom. 

 

"Carol."

 

"Daryl." 

 

He gave a bare hint of a nod, and turned to go into his room. She turned back and grabbed Spencer's free hand, pulling him into her room. She asked him to wait for a moment and darted into the spare room, grabbing a pair of men's sweats for him.

 

They locked themselves in her room, barely getting clothes back on before collapsing on the bed. Carol was asleep almost instantly and once Spencer heard her deep, even breathing, he got up and went across the hall to the bathroom. He cleaned up the water, fixed the shower curtain and tossed the dirty laundry in the hamper. One less thing to weigh on her shoulders.

 


	3. Whatever Makes You Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now includes Daryl. Spencer/Carol/Daryl.

Their skin slicked together, sweaty and hot, moving in sync, their fingers laced together as she rode him, hips undulating in lazy passion. It was early morning, the pale light of the sunrise just barely peeking over the horizon.  The early morning calls and twittering of the birds outside the window played a sweet, melodious soundtrack to the rhythm of their movements, filtering through the open windows and floating along on the chilled autumn air. The cool breeze dusted their flushed skin with goosebumps, hot and cold, dry and wet, warring sensations playing on their senses.

 

She gripped Spencer's hands, giving herself more leverage, relishing the moans he let escape every so often. He was good, so giving and carefree in bed. It was  fun. Something she couldn't say she'd ever had before. He had no longing to be in control, he simply wanted her to feel happy. He wanted to do whatever she desired to do, and he just enjoyed the ride, so to speak,  and she made it damn good for them both. 

 

He was caught up in the feel of her surrounding him, of the squeeze and slide of her walls over his shaft, so he didn't hear the light knock at the door. She groaned as he rubbed against her in just the right way, and the noise was loud enough to reach the hallway because when she opened her eyes, she saw Daryl standing there in the doorway, eyes wide and face red. 

 

She caught his gaze and something came over her, some sense of daring, so she simply raised an eyebrow and continued, her hips grinding into Spencer. Daryl averted his eyes but not before she caught him glancing at her tits, and the way they rose and fell with each buck of her hips. She also couldn't help but notice the obvious erection growing in Daryl's pants, a sight which made her mouth water a little and her walls clench against Spencer. Spencer grunted in delight at her tightening around him. Daryl's eyes lifted up once again, at the noise, to the scene in front of him. 

 

He startled at Carol's intense heated stare directed at him, and started backing away, closing the door when she stopped him. 

 

"Wait," she rasped. 

 

Carol leaned down to Spencer, pausing her movements and whispering in his ear, her voice earthy and fierce with desire. 

 

"Want to try something new?" She motioned to the door with her eyes and Spencer glanced over to see Daryl, clearly aroused but wearing the look of a scared rabbit. 

 

"Whatever makes you happy, babe," he winked, shrugging his shoulders and she could feel the movement all the way through his body, rippling into her own. 

 

She moved off of him, and slowly approached Daryl, reaching her hand out to him. He grasped her hand and she gently tugged him towards her, taking his other hand in hers and looking up at him. She caught his eyes flicker curiously to Spencer and then back to her, desire clear in their depths. 

 

"Would you like to join us?" Carol asked him in a hushed voice, soothing his trembling hands by rubbing her thumbs across the back of his fingers as she waited for his answer. She saw his skin flush and he bit his lip, nerves clearly at play. 

 

"It's okay, I've got you," she reassured him in a soft, caressing tone, guiding him towards the bed, stopping when her legs hit the edge. 

 

She ran her fingers up his chest, edging her fingers under his vest, inching the leathery fabric up and off his shoulders bit by bit. She unbuttoned his shirt, but at his wary glance at Spencer, she shushed him quietly, pausing her hands against his warm flesh.  

 

"Trust me?" Carol whispered, and it was hard to tell if it was a command or a question. 

 

"It's alright man," Spencer spoke, his voice easy and light, trying to ease the tension. "I won't bite," he paused then winked at the hunter, "Unless you want me to." Spencer's smile was disarming and despite Daryl's reservations he felt himself begin to relax. 

 

Carol dropped her hands to Daryl's belt, unfastening it with a practiced ease, and then unbuttoning his pants. Her eyes never left his face, the intensity of the looks passing between them not going unnoticed by Spencer. Daryl paused Carol's hands while he toed his boots off before she let his pants drop to the ground. Leaving him in his boxers and unbuttoned shirt, she guided him to sit on the bed, leaning back on the pillows. She crawled over him, straddling his waist, and bent to kiss his lips in a gentle, reassuring peck. 

 

"If you want to stop, just tell us," she whispered in Daryl's ear before scooting herself down his body, looking him in the eyes until her mouth was at waist level. She turned looking over her shoulder, beckoning Spencer without using words, and he crawled across the bed quickly and quietly until he was kneeling behind her, his hands clasping her hips. 

 

Spencer entered her, and the feeling of him sliding into her, stretching her again, slipping through her slickness, caused her eyes to flutter close and a cry to escape her lips. She felt Daryl's rough hand on her cheek then, gentle and tentative, and she opened her eyes to look at him. His gaze betrayed all of his feelings, laid bare before her, and her eyes watered at the intensity of the connection between them. 

 

She lowered her head then, slipping his boxers below his hips with her hands and grasping his erection. She relished the feeling of his heat in her hand, the strength of him, and proof of his desire right before her. She dipped her tongue, delicately swiping at the head of his cock, and his muffled growl reached her ears, as if he was trying to bite it back. She swirled her tongue licking around him before closing her mouth over his dick, and massaging the underside of his shaft. 

 

She moaned around him, loving the feel of Daryl in her mouth and she felt herself grow even more wet with arousal. Spencer felt it as well, her walls slickening and squeezing even more as he pumped into her. He grabbed her hips harder, unable to help how fiercely, insanely good it felt to bury himself in her. Each thrust shoved her forward, causing her to take Daryl a little deeper. His cock was slick from her spit and his precum, and she swiped her tongue across the head on each upstroke, loving the salty taste of him in her mouth. 

 

She held his shaft in one hand, helping to control the momentum, stroking the bottom length with her fist while her mouth enveloped the head. She pulled back a bit and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out and licking around the tip, as she looked directly up at Daryl. Daryl's fist gripped the sheets, tangling his fingers in the material, as he restrained himself from grabbing her by the hair. His hips jerked involuntarily and her name crossed his lips in a groan. 

 

She had never felt like this before, never so aroused. Never so desired. The fact that both of these two men were so turned on and were enjoying themselves so thoroughly gave her a heady sense of power. She was doing this to them. It was a freedom and a feeling of control over her own sexuality that she had never experienced in her life. 

 

She began to rock with Spencer's thrusts, pushing herself back on his cock, and then forward onto Daryl, taking each as deep as she could. The slip and slide of each of them inside of her was so intense, her nerve endings were stretched and taut with the buildup of energy inside of her. She felt Spencer growing harder and his thrusts losing rhythm and knew he was getting close to the end. He reached around her to rub at her clit, but that wasn't even going to be necessary. She was so close to coming, her body tightening, spiraling towards the finish. 

 

She looked up at Daryl, but he wasn't looking at her this time. He was looking beyond her, at Spencer. Spencer tensed and thrust hard once last time, pulling out at the last minute, spilling his semen on the bedsheets between them. She felt Spencer let go, and at Spencer's cry of release Daryl came without warning, growling as he spurted, filling her mouth. Her body snapped, the tension released and she climaxed, her body shuddering, her lower half collapsing against the bed, and her chest heaved from the aftermath. Daryl was still coming and she swallowed it all, licking up what spilled out the sides of her mouth and was dripping down the side of his cock. 

 

She looked up at Daryl then, and a look of such passion, such understanding, and such caring passed between them as they stared at one another, Daryl's hand once again coming up to brush against her cheek. Spencer noticed, felt the tension in the room. There was something there with those two. Something that he would be a fool to get in the middle of. He knew it, whether they did or not. He turned to climb off the bed, looking for a towel to clean up with and for his clothes. 

 

Carol and Daryl still hadn't moved from the bed. She was sprawled out over his lap, face resting against his lower stomach, and he was tenderly brushing the hair back from her forehead. Spencer retrieved the towel from the chair in the corner, left over from last night's shower and tossed it on the bed to Daryl, before jerking on his sweats and slipping across the hall to the bathroom. 

 

Daryl handed the towel to Carol to clean up with before he used it to wipe himself off, and rearrange his boxers. Carol lay sprawled in the middle of the bed, too happy, too sated, too fulfilled to care about anything right now. Spencer came walking back into the room and handed a glass of water to Carol before gathering up Daryl's clothes and handing them to him, and searching out his own shirt and shoes. 

 

He finished dressing and turned to leave but Carol stopped him at the door, standing there naked as could be, without a care in the world. She looked as if she were about to say something but he interrupted her. 

 

"I...I can tell there's something there," he nodded towards Daryl, his voice low, "I can see it. Hell, I feel it. This thing, it was amazing. I don't have a single regret." He cupped her cheek and leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before rising and looking up at Daryl making his way to the door behind Carol. Daryl stopped, wrapping his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder. 

 

Spencer nodded at Daryl, a teasing grin lighting his face.

 

"But, anytime you guys want some company...," he trailed off, smiling at the both of them. 

 

Carol shifted, not quite fully turning her head, but leaning into Daryl, and he hugged her closer. 

 

"Whatever makes you happy, babe." Daryl kissed Carol on her neck and she grinned up at Spencer, winking. 

  
"You heard him. Whatever makes me happy." 


End file.
